Possessive by Lena Little
2
Poppy
Ihave no idea where that word came from. Maybe it’s the emotion of everything that’s happened this last week. Maybe it’s my subconscious crying out for help, that I need someone. But not just anyone. Someone who can fill a role for me that I never thought I needed.
I try and concentrate, pushing back all feelings that are brewing inside me like a storm. The truth is I know it’s not that I need someone. I need him. The man whose name I don’t even know. But what I do know is that he’s a no b.s. kinda guy, demonstrated by the way he carries himself and how he goes about his business.
I can imagine him standing behind me at all times, ready to step in-between me and danger whenever and wherever it presents itself. Arms crossed over his wide chest, giving the third degree to anyone I’m not one hundred percent sold on. The silver that’s just starting to creep into his black hair and beard the outward indicators of his years on this earth, and the experience, wisdom, and guidance that goes with it.
All my life I’ve wanted nothing more than to feel protected. Safe. And here he is in the most unlikely of circumstances, at the worst of times, trying his hardest to offer me just that.
Ignoring his advances as best I can, yet clearly hearing him, I try and stay focused. But it’s hard. Too hard right now.
How can I not imagine curling up against his chest on Christmas morning? Waking up on the couch together as we stay up all night waiting for Santa Claus. Sure, it’s something a child would do, but what do you do when you never had the luxury of enjoying your youth?
His brow furrows as he concentrates on the beautiful work he’s doing on my arm, his concentration allowing me to focus on him. To observe him quietly and almost under a microscope.
His beard. His tattoos. His suit even, which is clearly out of place. But they all go together somehow and almost make him seem too male. The unkempt beard that frames his weathered face just adds to his masculinity.
As the tattoo needle moves across my skin with such a precise, yet delicate, touch, he demonstrates just how capable he is with those big hands of his. My thighs cinch together at the thought of what those fingers may feel like. There. I gasp.
“You okay?” He freezes, pulling back and examining my skin for any sign of an error he may have made. Clearly, there are none, but it does nothing to relieve his pain.
“Yeah. Sorry, it wasn’t the tattoo. I was just thinking.”
A beat passes and he nods. “Don’t think. That’s my job. And don’t do that again. Know this…I’d tear the sky straight down the middle before I dreamed of hurting you.”
“Thank you.” I pause and he resumes. “But you look like the type of guy who’s not afraid to inflict pain on someone else if need be. I…I saw the way you spoke with the man who you asked to leave.”
“I didn’t ask him to leave. I told him to get out. Big difference.”
“Exactly my point.” I should tread lightly but even broaching the subject doesn’t seem to result in any anger directed at me.
“And exactly mine. When I see something I want I go for it. And that includes clearing any potential obstacles out of the way.”
“But he’s not an obstacle. He’s your co-worker.”
“I hired him to work for me, not with me. And his duties have been revoked.”
“Because of me?”
“Because of a lot of things.” He drops the subject and goes quiet, back to only zeroing in on my forearm. I saw the tension building between him and the other guy and he escalated it, which diffused it. His words just now when I tried to talk about it again were just as compact, direct, and definitive as before. And like the other guy, I drop the subject, my tail between my legs, although I don’t feel any sort of humiliation for having tried to discuss it. It’s a strange combination, how he can tell you how things are and how they’re going to be without sounding bossy or making you sound stupid. Okay, maybe bossy to the other guy, but not to me.
He’s calculated and bold, not reckless and with the room so silent that the only sounds are the tattoo gun and my own breathing, my mind starts to feel the transformation within my body…and it doesn’t start on my arm.
My thighs cinch together and I squeeze my lips shut, willing myself not to make a sound. I’ve never felt a tug like that between my legs before. Like a warm, melting feeling that just spirals on forever, only getting stronger and more intense by the second.
Moving my arm slightly my palm finds his treetrunk thick thigh. I don’t know if I want to flex my tiny little hand over the top of it and feel the muscle underneath or ask him if I can jump on him like a trampoline. My thoughts are springing every which way and before I realize it I am clamping down on his thigh.
He pauses, his back straightening as he comes out of the hunched over intent position he was in when he was just working on me…but he’s no less intent now. The only difference is his focus is trained on me.
“Your hand moves another inch further up my thigh and there won’t be any going back.” His voice is ashes and soot and is equally a promise as it is a threat.
“Maybe the tattoo isn’t the only first thing I’m here for.”
We sit in silence before he finally says, “You deserve better.”
“Life doesn’t give us what we deserve. I for one know a lot about that. I’m starting to think you just have to take what you want. Isn’t that right….”
“Paul.” He fills in the blank. “Or when it comes to you, Possessive Paul.”
“Why possessive?” I answer, wanting to hear the words I know he’s going to say. Wanting to hear the conviction in his tone, the straightforward reply that a boy my age could never give…let alone deliver on.
“Because if I take what I want right now, you might not like it very much.”
“Or I might.”
“Little girl, you tempt the big bad wolf, you’re likely to get bit.”
I squeeze his thigh harder, his muscle unmoving. But the rough angles that make up his face do descend on me as he bends forward and claims my mouth with his tongue, lips, teeth, every ounce of himself.
I almost fall back and hear the tattoo gun hit the floor for the second time today, but this time it’s clear he won’t be picking it up anytime soon. His hands frame my face, bringing my mouth to his as he parts my lips with a determined tongue, the chafe of his beard scratching my chin.
Whining into his kiss, I find myself quickly running out of air and it’s clear Paul has no intention of helping me find any of the oxygen that’s been sucked out of the room. He continues ravishing my mouth, and despite my complete lack of experience, I find my lips doing the same, which only causes what’s happening to ignite like a powder keg, ready to explode into something more at any moment.
His hand slides down my back and it’s the gasoline on the fire, pushing it towards inferno levels.
One of his hands drops from my face, a crooked and scarred knuckle dragging past my neck and approaching the valley between my breasts. The dampness in my shorts multiplies exponentially, and I wish I’d worn something less revealing today, but it’s darn near all I’ve got and on a day as hot as today it made sense…until it didn’t.
He hooks one finger inside his tie and loosens it, before making quick work of the knot. The suit jacket is the next to go, quickly followed by the button-down shirt. As he maneuvers his shoulders to remove the white cotton from his frame, his muscles ripple, and his own ink is on display, stacked upon layers of corded flesh.
He tosses his shirt to the side with all the chivalry of a discarded apple on a barren stretch of interstate, his dark eyes studying my chest. He’s focused on me to a point it’s almost scary, and I can’t concentrate on anything, my mind trying to process the giant hovering over me in a tattoo chair well past closing time. The whole shop is closed up and at this moment it feels like the excuse I need to do what I want more than anything else.
One hand grabs the fabric over my breasts, fondling it until my taut peaks are doing their damnest to cut right through what little clothes I do have on. My own hands rake through his thick hair, finding the top of his head and applying a little force downward. It feels like a lot to me, but it’s laughable to think I have an ounce of strength compared to this man. No way can I guide him anywhere he doesn’t want to go, but luckily for me, he’s in agreement.
“You want me to taste your hot little slit just as badly as I want to lick my lips straight up that untested cunt that I’m sure I’m going to find is sealed tighter than an envelope.”
“Who said I’m a virgin?” I protest, but as his kisses trickle down my cleavage and his hand comes off my breast and follows right behind his lips, I’m not able to protest more.
His hand races his mouth, cupping my womanhood and then running his thumb across the denim that separates his flesh from my opening. “This belongs to me now. Understand, little girl.”
“Yes, Paul,” I breathe heavily in agreement.
“I thought we settled on a different name.”
“Yes…sir.”
“Getting closer, but still not there.”
I know what he wants and I want to say it just as much as he wants to hear it, the moniker rolling off my tongue like morning dew falling from a leaf. “Yes, Daddy.”
His breath hitches, and immediately he sounds like a racehorse in the final stretch of the track at the Kentucky Derby. His big hands find my button fly and pop it open as easily as if he’s opening a beer after a hard day of work. He pinches my zipper in-between the tips of two fingers and the dichotomy of the size of our two bodies is nearly laughable. My zipper is so tiny and petite and his hands so large, he can barely make it work at first. But once he gets a hold he yanks it down with reckless abandon, sliding my shorts down my legs and tossing them to the side before his head is lunging forward like a dog toward a bone as he growls his approval. His wide shoulders spread my thighs wider as his entire mouth cups my sex, his tongue licking up the fabric of my crotch.
He slides his head up slightly, taking my panties in his mouth, and yanks his head back violently, the cheap material slicing right in two. Shaking his head wildly like a Pit Bull with a rag in its mouth, he spits it off to the side and stares at my hole.
“Perfect. So fucking perfect. And about to be so fucking mine.”
I nod.
“You understand this is it. Once I tuck my tongue inside your glistening sex and part you open, tasting your sweet nectar you belong to me. You are mine, my property.
“Your property?”
“My everything. You. Are. Everything.”
It’s the words I need to hear. I don’t want to think about pain anymore, only pleasure. No tears, no sorrow, no struggling. Only pleasure, and here he is serving it up on a silver platter, telling me I’m everything at the exact moment when I feel like my life has become nothing.
A tear tugs at the corner of my eye, but I somehow manage to hold it back.
“Yours. And yours to take exactly how you want. Don’t be gentle. Be you.”
That’s all the permission he needs, his tongue dragging straight up my folds before Frenching my sex. He presses his mouth over my entire folds, sending his tongue diving deep and then deeper still.
His hot breath bathes my middle, his hands sliding underneath me and cupping my ass as he uses my butt as leverage, pushing my pussy harder against his face as his tongue paints me like a Picasso.
“So fucking sweet,” he mumbles into me, his words vibrating my already shaking body. “Let’s see how deep I can sink my tongue into this tight little hole.”
Oh. My. God.
Liquid heat spears my sex and the muscles in my middle, and my stomach, begin to clench.
“Fuck,” he groans brokenly. “Can’t believe I’m the lucky fucker who owns this from now until eternity.” His words are muffled but I’m so in the moment I can make them out without a shadow of a doubt. “I hope you’ve enjoyed every second leading up to this moment, because from here on out you’re never going to get a moment’s rest again. I’m going to chase you all over this shop, this town, the house that will one day be ours, this world, reminding you you’re the one and only one who drives me abso-fucking-lutely insane.”
I grab at the edges of the tattooing chair I’m in, my body almost horizontal as his tongue comes off my pussy and quickly bathes the hollow of my belly before returning to its prior location, the tip of his tongue sliding right back through my folds.
I go to scream, but he raises a rough hand, catching my mouth with not even half of his calloused and crooked mitt.
“Coming in here like you did in those shorts and that top was like ringing a dinner bell at dusk in the jungle. And the biggest fucking six-hundred-pound gorilla is the one how came out himself to feast on your flesh. From now on you keep this body of yours covered or there will be consequences,” he warns. “Because this,” he continues, his hand sliding down the middle of my body, giving me chills. “All of it belongs to me and only me. And if anyone thinks otherwise I will make them pay. And the animal in me deals in blood, not forgiveness. And when I go full savage, there won’t be anyone around to hear their screams.”
A jagged bolt streaks across my line of sight, my vision blurring just before I see stars. Did I just hear what I think I heard? He’ll literally kill anyone who tries to take me from him? I’m the girl who can’t even get a foster family to commit after ten visits and Paul is ready to own me, to take with bad and the good.
I wrap my legs around his neck and squeeze his face into me. He obliges by adding a finger, along with his tongue, my sex and my pussy respond in kind by wrapping around his first knuckle like a Chinese finger trap, constricting when he goes to pull out his digit.
“Such a greedy little pussy, and just as tight as I suspected.”
He flicks my pearl with the tip of his tongue and then circles my nub before dancing figure eights around it.
My body jackknifes, but Paul puts a thick forearm straight up my center and splays his fingers across the width of my entire chest, keeping me pinned down as my body shudders against his mouth.
The dam inside me breaks and I explode, a single scream coming from my throat as I thrash and then flop like a fish out of water, the intensity of my climax completely owning me. My vision goes out, comes back for a split second, then disappears again.
My blood runs molten hot as my body jerks disjointedly. I blink my eyes three times and look between my legs to see him watching me like a hawk as he keeps his lips glued to my cunt as he laps at my flesh, determined not to let a drop slide from my body and find the chair.
Chest heaving, breath nowhere to be found, he pulls me vertical and then carefully lifts me from the chair and onto his lap, his knee bouncing me as I throw my arms around his neck. A second ago his rough hands were all over me, his mouth on my sex. Now he’s holding me like I’m both a fragile and precious gemstone. Running his thumb up and down the nape of my neck he brings me down from my high with somewhat of a massage.
“In the future when we do this, and we will a whole helluva lot after we finish you’ll be in this same position, on my lap but we’ll be on a big L-shaped couch, comfy as hell, and I’ll be feeding you popcorn as we watch our favorite series on our projector.”
“Can we watch scary movies?” I ask softly into his ear. “I love them but always wonder why I watch them later when I can’t fall asleep.”
“Not only can we, we will. And if you can’t fall asleep because if it gets too scary I’ll cover your eyes with my hands, and hold you tight, just like when we finish the movie and go to sleep. I’ll be right there…always.”
“Can you give me a massage while we watch? I’ve never had a massage before.”
“Foot massage, back massage, neck massage, calf massage, which is very underrated by the way…I’ll give them all to you, as often as you like.”
“But,” I stammer. “How am I ever going to make you happy in return?”
“You already do, Precious. Just by existing.”
“But I want to do more, to contribute in more ways,” I say, pulling my head out from the warm safe place it was wedged in beside his neck and shoulder.
“What kind of ways?” he asks, his voice dark and as I see thunderstorms forming behind those eyes.
“Any way that can make you happy. Anyway, that can relieve stress, like you just did for me.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for all that?” he questions, one eyebrow raising and I swear I see a quick tick in his jaw as I reach down and cups his balls.
“Only one way to find out. Right, Daddy?”
